


The Unlayering of Castiel Novak (and Not Just in a Sexy Way)

by TheReluctantShipper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accountant Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Anal Sex, Bruises, Consent, Developing Relationship, Firefighter Dean Winchester, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Major Character Injury, Marking, Mating, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Dean, POV Dean Winchester, Past Child Abuse, Possessive Castiel, Rough Sex, Scenting, Self-Lubrication, Soldier Castiel, Sweet Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-01-26 10:17:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12555256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheReluctantShipper/pseuds/TheReluctantShipper
Summary: It’s incredibly easy to forget that Cas is an alpha. Not that Dean buys into that stereotypical bullshit about subgenders anyway, it’s just that… Well, Cas just doesn’tdoanything that normal alphas do.





	1. A Different Kind of Alpha

**Author's Note:**

> This is (obviously) a work of fanfiction. I claim no ownership over any of the characters, or the world of Supernatural, however grateful for them I may be, which is hella.
> 
> No posting schedule, because I am a garbage person comprised of garbage, and cannot commit to anything but my husband.
> 
> The "No Archive Warnings Apply" tag is just for now. There might be more added later, I don't know yet.

It’s incredibly easy to forget that Cas is an alpha. Not that Dean buys into that stereotypical bullshit about subgenders anyway, it’s just that… Well, Cas just doesn’t do  _ anything _ that normal alphas do.

Like, for example, Cas is an  _ accountant. _ Technically, he does own his own firm, so he doesn’t answer to anyone, but that’s just so he can do bookkeeping for small businesses who sometimes can’t pay with money. Cas will take basically anything. It’s how he got the beehives in the backyard. It’s how he got his big Heinz Fifty-Seven mutt, Claire  _ (“That’s a stupid name for a dog.” “I can’t rename her now, Dean, it will confuse her.”). _ His computer, which Dean can only assume has nuclear launch codes and could power a small village, came from Dean’s friend Charlie, who runs her own IT business next door to Cas’. When Cas discovered Dean’s penchant for pie, he struck a deal with a baker, so Dean gets one freshly baked once a week.

Most alphas, though, if they even  _ are  _ in an office setting, are high-powered executives, who run multi-billion dollar companies, with thousands of employees. Cas’ is a one-man shop, no one to boss around there.

Cas also does things like  _ yoga, _ and  _ meditation, _ and  _ counting to ten. _ Alphas are warriors. They box and spar and  _ fight. _ Cas is just… Real, real bendy. Which Dean is not complaining about, and he never will, and he never has, but it’s… Different.

They’ve only been doing this for a couple of months, after Cas stuttered out a question,  _ finally _ asking him out after a solid two weeks of Dean having to invent reasons to come visit Charlie so he could ogle the alpha. Whatever  _ this _ is, it’s going well, as far as Dean is concerned. A little weird, maybe, but nice.

Weird in that Cas doesn’t… He just doesn’t  _ do _ the things that alphas  _ do. _ He doesn’t insist on paying for their dates, but is willing to. He doesn’t check out Dean’s ass (that the omega can see, anyway) every time he turns around, he doesn’t get overly handsy, he doesn’t push for sex at every opportunity. It’s like he’s just happy  _ being _ around Dean.

That mentality blends into everywhere they go. When confronted with another alpha, most alphas will posture, or growl deep in their chest, or  _ something. _ Not only does Cas not do any of that, Dean has even seen his alpha tilt his head and  _ bare his neck in submission _ to avoid a confrontation. It’s completely unheard of, at least to Dean, who grew up with John “I Would Die Before Baring My Neck to Another Alpha” Winchester.

And, listen, the  _ sex. _ The sex is good, it’s amazing, mind-altering, world-shattering good. It always leaves Dean jelly-legged and dazed.

So it  _ is _ good, but it’s gentle,  _ tame. _ Cas picks him apart, yeah, disassembles Dean until there are tears running down his temples and he’s straight-up begging, cock curved up to his belly, precome pooling, legs shaking, slick soaking the sheets beneath him. The only really alpha thing that Cas does is edge Dean until he’s a mess, then makes him come so hard and fast that his vision blacks out and reality ceases for just a moment, nothing is real outside of the heat of Cas’ mouth or the way Cas’ big alpha cock fills him up.

But he never pushes Dean around, or manhandles him. Cas’ kink is enthusiastic consent, and in a world where not everyone feels that way, Dean can get behind that, he really can.

It’s just that Dean really,  _ really _ loves being manhandled, and he hasn’t found a good way to bring it up.

Other than that, Cas is a good alpha. He doesn’t care that Dean is a firefighter who goes into burning buildings, he doesn’t ask if Dean is “straining his delicate omega sensibilities,” or whatever the fuck it is that’s been shouted at him a million times since he started. At most, when Dean has had a bad day, or is dead tired, he’ll put Dean on the couch after dinner, head in Cas’ lap, and run his long, strong fingers through Dean’s short hair until the omega falls asleep, wrapped in the scent of  _ alpha _ and  _ warm _ and  _ safe. _

He doesn’t make snarky remarks that Dean can cook, or that Dean’s house is clean, and they haven’t discussed pups yet, but Dean knows that Cas wouldn’t say a damn negative thing if Dean told him that he wants a huge houseful of them. He’ll just hit Dean with those big blue eyes and quirk his lips in the half-smile he does so well.

So Dean is content, which is weird, but surely he’ll get over it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback makes me twitterpated.


	2. A Box of Medals

The first unlayering of Castiel Novak happens on a Thursday afternoon.

Dean is staying at Cas’, which is still new enough that the shine hasn’t worn off of the phrase, “I’ll be at my boyfriend’s place tonight.” Dean is watching TV (Cas’ TV is a sixty-three inch that he got in trade for helping a kid named Ash get out of some shady financial trouble, and Cas had turned it on about three times in the year and a half before he met Dean). He’s flipping through channels aimlessly, keeping an eye on the clock for when his alpha gets home.

The thought makes him frown.  _ Not my alpha, calm down, boy. _ The little part of him where most of his omega tendencies lives is unhappy at that, but he ignores it. Cas and he are just seeing each other, nobody’s anyone’s anything.  _ Cool it. _

He hears a little growl from the bedroom, and whips around as he realizes that Claire is nowhere to be seen. She’s five months old, and teething, and a  _ menace. _ She’s out of his sight, which means that Dean is fucked.

“Claire!” The playful growling continues, and Dean groans and launches himself off of the couch.  _ Dammit. _ The stupid dog always responds to Cas’ Alpha voice, and Dean is capable of many things, but Alpha voice is not one of them.

He runs back to the bedroom to find the dog halfway under the bed, tail wagging like crazy. “God dammit,” he mutters, walking in to grab her around the hips and tug her out. She comes easily, and Dean realizes that she was trying to pull something from out under the bed.

He tugs again and pulls her out completely. Her prize is in her mouth, and her happy brown eyes look between the torn up box and him rapidly as she growls again.

“Drop it,” he says firmly. She does so immediately and turns to look at him, tail still wagging, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth.

“You’re a mess,” he snipes at her. Claire is unfazed by his pissy attitude, and he turns to the box she pulled out to see if it’s salvageable.

It’s a shoebox, and if the layer of dust on the top is any sort of indicator, it’s not something that Cas uses frequently. Dean toys with the idea of just pushing it back under the bed and leaving it there until he sees the overhead light glinting off of something inside.

Never let it be said that Dean thinks about things before he does them. He could have thought, “Cas clearly meant to hide this, so I’m going to respect his privacy and put it back.” Or he could have thought, “Why the hell would I want to look in a dusty old box that the guy I’ve been seeing for the last couple of months keeps under his bed?”

Dean thinks neither of these things. His thoughts can be roughly translated to, “Oh, shiny.”

He pulls the lid off of the box to reveal a pile of… Medals?

There’s about ten of them, covered in another, much finer, layer of dust that the box wasn’t able to completely keep out. The only reason Dean recognizes them is because John was a Marine, and Dean has been to enough armed forces events (and funerals) to recognize the decorations of a celebrated soldier.

He doesn’t recognize all of them, but there are some pretty hefty goddamn awards here. There aren’t names on the medals, so Dean isn’t one hundred percent sure that they’re Cas’. That doesn’t even really make sense, right? Dean likes Cas a lot, but Cas is gentle and submissive and sweet and so completely un-alpha-like that it’s crazy. Right?  _ Right? _

“Dean?”

Dean turns around slowly to see the alpha standing in the doorway. “Heya, Cas.” His voice does  _ not _ croak out, thank you very much.

Cas’ eyes are scanning the room, then he looks down at Claire, who’s making soft little whining noises as she sits at his feet. Cas kneels and rubs a fond hand over her head. “Why do I suspect that it’s you, little one, who’s revealing my secrets?

~

The thing to understand about Cas is that there are questions that Cas will not ever, under any circumstances, answer.

Questions about his past, any farther back than the couple of years since he moved to Lawrence, Kansas.

Questions about his family.

Questions about  _ anything _ other than bees, accounting, Claire, and Dean.

Cas is a real quiet kind of guy, and Dean doesn’t ask.

~

Cas heaves a sigh and stands slowly. He raises his eyes to lock with Dean’s. “I suppose you have… Some questions.”

Dean snorts. “You’re goddamn right I have some questions.”

Cas comes to stand next to Dean, then folds himself down gracefully to sit, their knees touching. Dean realizes that he’s sitting cross-legged, which means that at some point he shifted positions, which means he’s been staring at the evidence of his boyfriend’s possibly secret badass lifestyle for longer than he thought.

Cas reaches out to take one of the medals out of the box. He fingers it, letting the little ribbon rest on his fingers. “I was a soldier for a long time,” he says softly. The cadence to his voice is unnatural, stilted, like it’s something he’s recited over and over again. Nothing like the soothing rumble it usually is.

“Cas, man, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Dean says, suddenly feeling guilty and nervous.

Cas continues like he didn’t hear Dean speak. “I was… Not a good person. I did some truly horrendous things.”

Dean’s silent for a moment. “I mean, they don’t just hand these out like candy. Gotta be a pretty good soldier, from what I hear.”

“From what you hear,” Cas says thoughtfully, slowly. “Yes, I suppose in the eyes of those I was serving for, I was a very good soldier.”

“O-kay,” Dean says, drawing the word out in the awkward silence. Since Dean has never been good at tact, or stepping on eggshells, he blurts, “What the hell, Cas? Why are you hiding these?”

Cas finally turns his gaze away from the medal in his hand back to Dean, and the empty pain he sees there makes Dean wish he hadn’t. “I was not a good person, Dean. I was, arguably, a monster. I did terrible things, things that I refuse to recount.” He drops the medal back in the box suddenly, like it’s burned him. “And for it, they honored me with a ceremony and gave me a medal.”

Cas’ face looks so set in stone, in misery, that Dean can’t handle it. Sure, maybe he just likes the guy right now, and maybe he’s realizing that he doesn’t know him as well as he thought, but Cas means a lot to Dean, and that look on his alpha’s face is  _ killing him. _

(Dean doesn’t notice the slip-up in internal dialogue.)

“Why don’t you just throw ‘em out?”

Cas shakes his head. “I can’t, Dean. I can’t forget the person who I was, lest I become him again.” His blue eyes stare into nothingness again. “You’ve noticed that I don’t exhibit many… Traditional alpha traits.”

Dean snorts. “Understatement.”

Cas nods. “I have worked very hard for that. When I say that I was a bad person, Dean, I meant that I was… A bad alpha. My subgender is no excuse, but it’s a reason.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything, Cas.”

Cas, once again, ignores him. “I had an extremely ‘traditional’ upbringing.” (Those air quotes will be the death of Dean, he swears it.) “I was raised to believe that alphas are aggressive, that we can take what we want because that’s the way the world works. I… I believed it so  _ thoroughly, _ Dean. I became a soldier, like my brothers before me, and I was good.” He shakes his head. “No, I was  _ better. _ I was fast, and strong, I struck quick and hard. I left whatever enemy I went after reeling in the wake of the destruction I wrought.”

As vague as the description is, it makes Dean’s heart pound. He’s a little afraid, sure, because the hands that have always been so gentle and considerate with him, as it turns out, were not always that way. Mostly, though, he  _ aches _ for Cas. He aches for the pain he can hear in Cas’ voice, for the way his eyes hold nothing but sorrow as they stare at the wall above the bed, at the way his hands have begun to tremble minutely. Dean just aches for Cas.

“What changed?” he asks, almost in a whisper.

Cas doesn’t seem to notice. “I was in a village, trying to clean up after a battle. There was a little girl, she was smeared in dirt and blood, hiding underneath an overturned table on the road.” A pause. “I never found out why the table was out there in the first place. Not that it matters overmuch.” Another pause. “I found her, and I knelt down to speak with her. I tried to gentle my voice, but aggression was so much a part of my life then, I fear that I failed quite badly. She cowered, and she wouldn’t let me touch her to see if it was her blood that she was covered in.”

Cas takes a deep breath. “Normally, I would have just  _ made _ her come to me. I would have simply picked her up and made her let me check her over, in a violation that I could have never repaid or redeemed myself from. But this time, this time, the scent of her fear was so… Sharp.” Cas shrugs, like this is  _ no big deal. _ “Maybe it was because I was trying to protect her? I was trying to help her? Whatever it was, her fear cut through the alpha hormones and let me see clearly for the first time in a very, very long time. And do you know what I realized, Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?” Dean’s voice is rough and heavy, and his eyes burn a little.

“I realized that I was waiting to see what my instincts would do to her. Like they were separate, like they were a part of someone else.” Cas shakes his head. “I stood up and let a beta soldier help her. I finished that tour, then left the armed forces for good. I… I didn’t even  _ do _ anything to her, Dean, but I would have, and I did. To a hundred other children, just as scared and alone and frightened as she was. I couldn’t be that person anymore.”

Dean’s chest hurts, Cas’ agony is sharp, his scent sorrowful and heavy and self-loathing. “Cas…”

“I have tried very hard to overcome my base instincts. I have worked tirelessly so I can submit to another alpha and not attack, so that I can be gentle when we are together, not rough.” Cas finally looks at Dean again. “It is not because you are an omega, Dean, it is because I am an alpha, and I am ashamed of it.”

Dean is finding all of this hard to wrap his mind around. This gentle man, who has held doors for Dean, who took Claire in because “the shelter is overcrowded, Dean,” who gently tends to bees and plants alike, who is actually, literally  _ afraid of his computer, _ how can this man be capable of acts so horrific he can’t even talk about them?

Dean turns to take Cas’ face into his hands, overwhelmed by the need to help his alpha. (He notices the slip-up this time, but ignores it.) “Cas,” he says softly, insistently, “You’re not that person anymore.”

The quirk of the lips, now, but it’s sardonic and cold. “That is what I tell myself, yes.”

Dean wishes fervently that he had Sam with him. An alpha though Sam may be, he’s also eloquent and smart, and he would have the words that Cas needs to hear. Dean knows the words, but he can’t put them in order, he can’t get them out of his mouth. How can he explain to Cas how much  _ good _ there is in him? How can he tell Cas how much his heart thumps in his chest when he sees Cas turn payment away point blank if he knows a client can’t make it? Or how it warms his stomach when Cas inevitably gives whatever leftovers from one of their dates to Chuck, the homeless man who sits on the corner near Cas’ house. Or how when Cas listens to the same homeless man ramble on about the books he’s writing, the ones that have two brothers on some sort of long-ass road trip, and Cas is attentive and asks questions and  _ listens, _ how it makes Dean think fondly that Cas will make a really great father someday?

His distress must be leaking into his scent, because suddenly Cas’ fingers are carding through his hair, and Dean realizes he’s moved his face to press against Cas’ neck. “Shh, love, it’s all right,” Cas says softly, his rumbly whiskey voice right in Dean’s ear. “You’re safe with me, I would never hurt you.”

At that, Dean snaps his head back up and glares. “I  _ know _ that, you moron.”

That knocks Cas for a loop for a moment. “Excuse me?”

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me, doofus. I just…” Dean takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. “I wish…”  _ Dammit, just spit it out. _ “I wish I could tell you how good you are.”

Cas smiles gently and cups Dean’s face in his hand, searching his eyes for a moment. Dean feels pinned there, like his words are being weighed, like this moment has decided something that he’s not sure he meant to decide.

Cas’ smile finally reaches his eyes. “Thank you, Dean.”

They stare at one another, stuck there in time, until Dean snorts. “All right, all right, alpha. Enough with the chick flick moments for tonight, yeah?” He’s asking, making sure that Cas doesn’t need to talk more. Dean may not be very good at talking, but he can listen with the best of them.

Cas nods. He puts the lid back on the box gingerly, and with surprising force, shoves it back under the bed. “I was thinking we would have pizza tonight? If that’s all right with you? I can go get it, you’re tired.”

Just like that, with Cas standing up and offering a hand to help Dean do the same, the moment has passed, and Dean Winchester has revealed one of the layers of Castiel Novak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback makes me twitterpated.


	3. A Phone Call

The second unlayering of Castiel Novak also happens on a Thursday.

* * *

After Dean found the box of Cas’ awards, nothing really changed.

Oh, Cas is still considerate and affectionate, and Dean still pretends he doesn’t like it. They don’t talk about the medals, or about what Cas revealed, but Dean likes to think that Cas is just a little bit more relaxed, a little more open. Maybe their touches are easier, their eyes meet more often.

It could all be in his head, his inner omega still begging him to comfort his alpha after he saw Cas in so much pain, but Dean doesn’t think so. Dean thinks maybe things are just easier.

* * *

Dean is at the station between calls, playing cards with (losing the game to) Benny, a big beta who’s laidback as hell. Dean maybe even harbored a teensy crush on Benny for a while, something about his even temper and sparkling eyes drawing Dean in. That, of course, was before he met Cas, and all of his attention swung the alpha’s way.

When his phone rings, Dean is in the middle of berating Benny for cheating (he assumes) when he answers. 

“Go fuck yourself, Lafitte, I _know_ you had that ace in your sleeve.” He finally turns to speak into the phone. “Winchester here.”

“Dean?”

Something about Cas’ voice has Dean dropping the hand of cards he had and sitting up straight. He sounds worn out and rough. “Cas? Cas, what’s wrong?”

“I’m… I’m afraid I have to cancel our date this evening, Dean. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. What’s wrong?”

There’s a beat of silence, then, “I’m feeling a bit… Under the weather.”

“You’re sick? With what?”

“Dean, I’m sorry, I have to go, but I’d like to reschedule, maybe once my… Once this has passed.”

Dean is frowning, but he nods. When he realizes Cas can’t see that, “Yeah, yeah, no worries.”

“Thank you.” The relief in Cas’ voice is palpable. “Have a lovely evening. I’ll call you when I’m… Feeling better.”

“Okay…” The phone beeps in his ear before he even hits the button. “Cas…” He pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it for a moment. “What the fuck was that?”

“What’s up, brother?” Benny asks, his ice blue eyes (not as good as Cas’, but who’s keeping track) worried.

“Nothin’, just, uh. Cas is sick.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Benny starts shuffling the cards again.

“Yeah,” Dean murmurs, distracted. “Me, too.”

* * *

So, Dean knows that Cas was trying to get him to stay away, he’s not an _idiot._ It was pretty obvious that Cas wants no one around when he’s sick. Dean’s the same way, he’s fucking miserable when he’s unwell, and he’s a prickly bastard to boot. He understands Cas’ wish for solitude.

Unfortunately for Cas, Dean doesn’t give one flying shit about his wish for solitude.

The omega in Dean has been _dying_ for _weeks_ to wrap Cas up and take care of him, especially after that shit with the medals. So even if Dean wanted to leave it be (which he does not), he couldn’t, because his omega is a constant, irritating itch beneath his skin, telling him to go pamper his alpha, to do everything he can to make his alpha’s life easier.

Dean shows up Cas’ house after his shift. He did take the time to go home, shower, and change. He’s got the ingredients for tomato and rice soup (his mother’s recipe, so he’s a sap, deal with it) in a reusable grocery bag (courtesy of Cas, his tree-hugging boyfriend, Jesus _Christ_ how is this his life?), and he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet when he rings the doorbell.

 _Fuck, it smells like Cas out here._ Cas smells like honey and old books and clover. It’s incredible, and Dean always thinks he smells good, but right now it’s a little intoxicating.

He hears shuffling on the other side of the door and looks at it expectantly. After a few moments of nothing happening, he frowns. “Cas?”

“Dean?” The alpha sounds _awful._ “Dean, what are you doing here?”

“You said you were sick, I came to take care of you.”

Cas groans on the other side of the door, and it makes Dean shudder a little. “Dean, you have to go.”

“Why? Come on, Cas, let me-”

_“Dean, shut up.”_

Dean’s jaw snaps shut, and he glares at the door. Cas has _never_ used his alpha voice on Dean. Which is a good thing, because after a childhood of being ordered an alpha father (who was disgusted to have an omega son) and an angry adolescent (Sam dabbled in being a douchebag), Dean resents the _hell_ out of alpha voice.

(It is worth mentioning that, while John has not gotten any easier to deal with, Sam apologized as soon as he hit young adulthood, and has treated Dean like nothing less than an equal since then.)

There’s a deep, rolling snarl on the other side of the door, but Dean is not impressed. Which he would tell Cas _if he could talk,_ but his instincts are preventing him from saying a word in the face of his (not his) alpha’s order. He’s lucky he’s even still standing.

“Dean, I’m so sorry,” Cas says, voice still strained. “Of course you can speak, forgive me, please.”

 _“Fuck_ you, Cas,” Dean says viciously, anger thrumming through his veins. “Whatever’s going on with you, you don’t get to take it out on me.”

Another growl before Cas is able to control himself. Then, “Of course. I’m so, _so_ sorry, but may we have this conversation at a later time? It’s… Getting worse.”

Dean glares at the door, totally _done_ with Cas’ vague answers. _“What’s_ getting worse?”

“Dean.” Cas’ voice holds some anger now, which makes Dean’s burn brighter. “I’m in rut.”

Dean feels himself pale. _“What?”_ All that anger is gone now, replaced with uneasiness.

A deep whine comes from Cas. It sounds raw, like it’s being literally torn from his throat. “Dean,” he says pleadingly, “Please, I would _never_ hurt you. Even if I could bring myself to do so, in _any_ state, which I _never_ would… I’m locked in.”

Startled, Dean looks up to see several industrial-sized deadbolts at even intervals on the door. Which is a nice thought, but an alpha can kick through a door like it’s made of tissue paper.

“The door itself is steel,” Cas says, like he can read Dean’s mind, “as are the locks. The wall is reinforced, too. I would have to quite literally chew through the ceiling to get out. And they’re vaulted.” From anyone else, that would be a joke, but Cas is just stating facts, assuring Dean that he’s stuck where he is, that he couldn’t hurt Dean even if he wanted to.

It’s kind of nice that he’s still most _Cas._

“Why are you locked up like this, alpha?” An ugly, jealous thought sneaks into Dean’s mind. He swallows hard. “Is there… You got anyone else in there with you?”

“Dean.” Cas’ voice is gentle, chastising. “Of course not. I would _never.”_

Dean leans forward to press his forehead against the door. “I know.” Where did this neediness come from? He stands back up straight. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

This is the first heat or rut in their relationship (a word that still makes Dean shudder), and quite frankly, they haven’t discussed it at all. Dean is on suppressants, because heats are annoying and humiliating (and not in a good way), and he has been for years. Cas is on them, too, but once a year lets a rut happen per his doctor’s orders. It’s not healthy to stave off the hormones for too long. Dean does the same, although he usually goes to a hotel several hours away and finds an alpha willing to spend a week with him.

The point is, they’ve never done this before, and Dean has never helped an alpha through a rut.

Cas makes a noise like he’s dying, somewhere between a groan and a growl. “No. It may actually best for you to leave soon.”

Dean frowns. “Are you sure? I can-”

 _“No,”_ Cas barks. The purr of a growl is constant now. “Please, you have to go.”

“Why?”

“Because I would tear through these fucking ceilings a hundred times to get to you.”

Dean feels himself honest-to-god gasp, as well as start to get wet. He knows Cas can smell the beginnings of arousal because of the way the door shakes when the alpha hits it.

 _“Dean.”_ Cas’ voice sounds pained now, desperate. Fighting his instincts. _“Go.”_

Dean nods and starts backing away. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” He pauses for a moment (he tells himself that it’s because he’s concerned, but it’s probably because he’s fighting the urge to get through a ceiling or two himself). “Do you have everything you need? Is someone coming to check on you?”

 _“Yes,”_ Castiel snarls (because he is _Castiel_ now, not Cas).

That’s quite enough for Dean, who turns tail and runs.

(And ignores the part of himself that wishes his alpha was chasing him.)

* * *

When Dean gets home, he’s so wound up that he goes straight for the fake knot he keeps in the nightstand and fucks himself on it so hard that he comes twice before collapsing. He worries a little that Cas’ rut pheromones may have triggered a heat, but there’s none of the horrible pain or searing urgency that accompanies being in heat. He was just… Super horny.

After a shower, ordering delivery from his favorite burger place, and cracking open a beer, Dean grabs his cell phone and calls Sam.

“Dean?”

“Heya, Sammy.”

“What’s up?”

No point in beating around the bush. “Cas is in rut.”

Sam makes a noise that manages to be both sympathetic and disgusted at once. “Why are you telling _me_ this?”

“It’s been a minute since I tried to help someone in rut. Like, ever.”

“And the question bears repeating: why _me?”_

“You’re the only alpha I like.”

“What about Victor?”

“Victor’s a _co-worker,_ fucknut. Would you ask your secretary about going into heat?”

“Jo would dislocate my arm. And she might dislocate _yours_ if she hears you call her a secretary.”

True. “Are you gonna help me, or do I need to ask your mate?”

Dean grins when there’s the sound of a scuffle on the other end. Sam yelps, there’s the sound of running feet and a slamming door, then Jess’ out of breath voice on the phone. “Hi, Dean.”

“Hey, gorgeous. Ready to run away with me and get to making the world’s first omega on omega pups?”

“Come pick me up, big boy,” she purrs.

 _“Ugh!”_ Sam’s frustrated noise makes both of them laugh until Jess sobers. “What’s up, Dean?”

“Cas is in rut, and I don’t know how to help.” It’s so much easier to say to another omega. Sam may understand what Cas is going through, but Jess understands Dean’s almost overwhelming urge to _help_ the alpha. “He locked himself in the house with heavy duty locks and shit. I couldn’t get in even if I wanted to.”

Jess coos sympathetically. “Poor thing. I mean, if he won’t let you in, there’s not a whole lot you can do, Dean. It sounds like he wants to ride it out on his own.”

Dean growls in frustration. “That’s stupid.”

“Just remember that he probably has a good reason,” she cautions. “Going through a rut without an omega to help is pretty rough.”

* * *

It’s a week before Cas calls. Dean’s off for the day, so he answers, but he’s still a little pissed (and hurt), so he’s short.

“Castiel,” he says coolly.

There’s a startled pause, then a soft sigh. “You’re upset.

“You could say that.”

“May I explain?”

Keeping Jess’ words in mind, Dean nods. “Yeah.”

Cas jumps right in. “My ruts are… Violent, moreso than usual. I believe it might be a result of my attempts to circumvent my alpha instincts on a day-to-day basis. I get…” Another sigh. “Extremely dominant, to be perfectly blunt. Not in a way I usually am.”

Dean frowns. “I guess I’m not following.”

“... Consent isn’t a requirement for me when I’m in rut.”

There’s a lot of pain in Cas’ voice, and while it’s less devastating when he can’t smell the alpha’s misery, it’s still making Dean’s heart hurt. “Cas…”

“I’ve never raped anyone, thank god,” Cas says, his voice falling into the same measured, emotionless cadence from before. “But I believe that’s mostly due to luck. And Bal.”

Balthazar is one of Cas’ few friends he still keeps contact with from his soldier days. He’s English, an alpha, kind of a big slut (not that Dean judges, or even _can_ judge), and he hates Dean almost as much as Dean hates him.

“What does Lieutenant Fuckwad have to do with it?”

“When we were in the force together, he watched out for it. Even at my worst, I never wanted to force myself on anyone. No, my sin was apathy, not ambition.”

Cas takes a deep breath. “I digress. Balthazar helped make sure I was locked up during ruts, while also ensuring that I had enough food to survive. He actually built the locks on my doors, and helped reinforce the walls and windows. He… Understands that I… I don’t want to harm anyone.”

Dean feels the last of his anger slip away. How could he hold onto it when faced with this sweet man who would rather be locked up than risk hurting someone?

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was… Unsure of how it would be received, I suppose. And I was worried you’d want to help.”

“I _do_ want to help.”

That half smile returns to Cas’ voice. “I know you do, Dean, but I can’t let that happen.”

Dean frowns a little. “Who says that your choice?”

“I will not risk your safety for relief during my rut, Dean Winchester,” Cas says firmly, not in his alpha voice, but definitely a hint of alpha in his voice. “If you don’t want to see me after this, I understand, but know that I always had your best-”

_“What?”_

“... interests at heart?”

“You… You thought I’d break up with you for this?”

“Dean, I…” And here is where Cas’ voice wobbles. Not before, when he was talking about the medals, not when he was talking about caging himself, but here, now. “I used my alpha voice on you.”

Something indefinable, deep down in Dean, warms at the admission. Because Cas has no way to know how Dean feels about alpha voice personally, outside of how most omegas find it demeaning and irritating. Dean’s never told him about his abusive fuck of a father, or his dead mother, or his lawyer little brother. So Cas doesn’t feel bad because of Dean’s history, Cas feels bad because Cas isn’t the kind of alpha to _use_ alpha voice on an omega.

Dean finds that his voice is a little thick when he speaks next. “Gonna be harder than that to get rid of me, Cas.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few seconds, then, “Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“May I… Come over?”

Dean grins. _“Hell_ yes.”

And just like that, Dean is speed-cleaning his apartment and making sure he’s showered, and another layer of Castiel Novak has been revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback makes me twitterpated.  
> Working on maybe one more reveal before the the real point/plot/climax of the story. Which should be good, and it will earn that "E" rating.  
> Also, not that I don't appreciate it, but where the hell are all of you coming from? You, the ones leaving kudos and bookmarking and subscribing?


	4. A Tragedy (Almost)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, please read the new tags. Triggers abound. Stay safe.

The third unlayering of Castiel Novak happens in the wake of a tragedy that almost was.

* * *

“Winchester!"

“Victor!”  _ God dammit. _ “Get the fuck out of here!"

_ “Dean!” _

Dean’s already gone, though, running up to the second floor. It’s dangerous and stupid, but there  _ pups _ up there.

They got the call about a home on fire, but no one told them that it’s a  _ foster _ home. They’ve gotten four of the pups out, but there are two left in the upper bedroom. It’s not safe, probably a lost cause, but even if Dean were an alpha or a beta, he can’t just  _ leave _ pups to  _ die. _

Flames have engulfed the entire house. Fire is  _ loud _ as it eats through walls and furniture and keepsakes. Dean flings himself up the stairs as fast as he can, but the house is starting to fold in on itself, the equipment he’s carrying is  _ heavy, _ and he’s beginning to fear that he won’t make it out of this, even if he does save the pups.

At the top of the stairs, he only has a second to regroup before he hears terrified wails from one of the bedrooms to his left. He follows them in, and for a moment thinks he’s hallucinating when he sees two identical faces with red-rimmed sapphire eyes staring at him from under the bed. He shakes his head.  _ Twins. _ Just a coincidence that they have dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

That coincidence might be what has Dean crossing the room in two long strides and scooping both pups into his arms, holding them close, protecting them. Neither of them hesitate to bury their faces into him, their scared cries trailing off to whimpers, barely heard over the roar of the fire.

Dean goes over to the window and doesn’t even have to ask before the little girl sitting on his left arm moves to lift it open.

“Go slow,” he semi-shouts in her ear. Last thing he needs is for them to get blown to shit because of a change in pressure.

She nods and pushes the window open slowly, until it’s as far as it can go. Dean looks out and sees Victor manning the truck while Benny’s on the cherry picker, already almost to them.

The floor starts to crack ominously, and Dean curses.

He looks at the pups one at a time. “Go with Benny, okay? He’s gonna keep you safe.”

The girl’s lip starts to tremble, but both she and her brother nod. Dean won’t be relieved for real until both of them are safely in Benny’s arms.

The beta finally gets to the window and doesn’t need any instruction from Dean. The boy pup goes first, and as he’s clambering to Benny, his sister’s big blue eyes are trained on Dean again.

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart,” he says, seeing the concern on her face. “Go on, I’m right behind you.”

It’s a lie and he knows it. He feels the floor start to crumble beneath him. He registers the panic on Benny’s face through his mask as Dean lightly tosses the girl out the window, no time for a more sedate hand-off. She’s barely out of his hands when the floor gives a defeated groan and collapses beneath him, pulling Dean down into flames and darkness. He hears Benny’s roar, the pup’s scream.

Pain explodes through his entire body when he comes to a jarring stop, and he can feel that his mask is askew, letting oxygen out and smoke in.

His last thoughts are,  _ Sam? Cas? Cas, I’m sorry. _

* * *

“Dean? Dean, can you hear me?”

“Sir, you really can’t be-”

“Dean Winchester,”  _ Fuck, that’s Cas’ alpha voice, _ “you are absolutely not going to die. Do you hear me? Get your heartrate under control  _ right now.” _

Dean feels his body calming, though he can’t move to acknowledge Cas. His inner omega is whimpering and whining, begging his alpha to comfort him, to make the pain go away.

He realizes those high-pitched noises are out loud when he hears Cas again, his low, rumbling voice so close that his lips are brushing Dean’s ear. “Shh, love, it’s all right. I’m right here.”

“Sir, you really can’t-”

A deep, authoritative growl explodes from where Dean assumes Cas’ chest is. If he was capable of grinning, he would be at his alpha’s possessive, protective behavior. It’s kind of hot.

A new voice. “What’s going on in here?”

“He won’t leave. I told him he can’t stay-”

“And you, what? Decided to argue with an alpha about his injured omega?”

“... Well-”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Get the hell out of here with your useless beta ass.” There’s an irritated huff, then footsteps fading away.

The next time the third voice speaks, his voice is gentled. “Cassie, how are you?”  _ Cassie? What? _

Cas is still growling softly between words, like he can’t help it. “I’m not the one who was trapped inside a burning, deteriorating building.”

“So… Not great.”

A sigh. “I just… I need you to make him all right, Gabe.”

“I know, I know, I’m gonna do everything I can.” A shuffling of paper. “Looks like he’s on his way to stable already. You’re helping by being here, little brother.”  _ Little brother?! _

“So I can stay?”

“What, like I’m gonna fight you after I tore Tessa’s head off?”

Dean fades back into unconsciousness.

* * *

Dean is in and out of awareness for what feels like forever. Sometimes there are voices, strange scents, needles poking him. The only constant is Cas’ scent, Cas’ voice.

* * *

When Dean is finally able to open his damn eyes and  _ keep _ them open, he’s vaguely aware that his whole body aches, especially his chest. Breathing is more difficult than it’s ever been.

Before he can look around, his nose is assaulted by distressed alpha (two distressed alphas, but one is definitely Cas).  _ What’s wrong with Cas? _

It all comes back fast. The foster home. The twins with Cas’ eyes. The fear on Benny’s face. The floor giving out. Darkness and agony.

Dean makes a noise of distress in the back of his throat as he’s battered by horrible memories. He can’t move, can barely breathe.  _ What happened? _ He can feel himself start to panic, and is helpless to stop it.

There’s a shuffling noise to his side, then familiar lips at his ear again. “Dean, calm down.”

_ Cas. _ Dean tries to settle himself. When Cas’ fingers start to card through his hair, it goes a long way toward accomplishing that goal. He looks over at his boyfriend and feels his eyes widen.

Cas is gorgeous, because Cas is  _ always _ gorgeous, but Cas also looks like  _ shit. _ There are dark circles under his eyes, he’s pale, and his hair of more of a mess than usual. His eyes are bloodshot, from either exhaustion or over emotionality.

Dean opens his mouth to make some smart remark, and abruptly realizes that there’s a giant goddamn tube down his throat. He tries to growl, but stops when that hurts, too, and settles for glaring at Cas.

His alpha’s eyes are tearing up again. “It’s the breathing tube, love,” he says gently, his fingers still moving through Dean’s hair. “I’ve already hit the button for the nurse to come remove it.”

_ Hmph. _ His frustration must show on his face, because Cas’ lips twitch up in an almost, barely-there smile. “You just have to wait a few minutes, Dean.”

Dean just stares at Cas while they wait for the nurse, and tries to take stock of what hurts. When the only answer he can come up with is, “everything,” he looks at Cas questioningly.

“Your left leg is broken,” the alpha says promptly, eyes still teary, fingers still moving, still refusing to admit he can read minds. “All of the ribs on your left side. Some superficial burns on your neck, and one more severe one on your left wrist where your glove left it exposed. You also…” Cas takes a deep, watery breath. “You also have quite a bit of smoke inhalation damage. Your mask… Slipped. When you fell.”

Dean manages to get his arm to move (not too painful, but not  _ pleasant) _ to cup Cas’ face. He runs a thumb along his cheekbone, trying to convey reassurance through touch until he can talk.

Cas leans into the touch. “I know, I’m being ridiculous. I’m sorry.”

Dean makes a dissenting noise, but before he can build a convincing argument out of grunts, a short, round-faced, dark-haired nurse comes strolling into the room. When she sees that Dean is awake, her eyebrows go up and she smirks. “Clarence, your boy-toy is awake.”

Her tone is a little mocking, but Cas is nodding. “Yes, I believe he wants the breathing tube to be removed, please.”

“I already paged the doctor,” she says evenly, her voice kind of like rotten silk (you know it should be smooth, but something is off) as she checks the machines next to Dean’s bed, hooked up to him through untold number of holes in his battered body. “How are you feeling?” At least  _ that _ question manages to sound sincere. Ish. “Scale of one to ten, show me on your fingers, one being like you’re already dead, ten being ready to walk out,” she says before he can glare at her for asking him a question when he can’t talk.

Dean tries to take stock of himself again. He’s definitely in some pain, but it’s more discomfort and soreness than outright agony. He’s still some strange combination of abhorrently exhausted and really giddy that he’s even awake and alive. Other than those things, he’s fine.

He moves his hands as little as possible to give her a “six.”

She nods. “That’ll be the morphine, mostly. We’ll talk to Doc to see when he wants to wean you off of it.”

A very tall man, with slicked back long hair and a beard that has Dean’s drugged up mind a little amazed, comes into the room. He drops a pen into the coat of his pocket and smiles. “Hi, Dean.” He nods to Cas. “Alpha.” After Cas nods back, the man looks back. “I’m not your normal doctor, he’s at home, getting some much-needed rest. I’m Dr. Cain, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight, before I give you back.” He claps his hands together. “Let’s get that breathing tube out, yeah?”

* * *

“Cas, come  _ on.” _

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s just us! No one will know!”

Cas’ face is stern, but he can’t fool Dean. There’s humor sparkling in his eyes, and he seems to be fighting the urge to smile. “Dean Winchester, your vitals are being monitored. Do you really think, should I get my mouth on you, that you can keep your heartrate down?”

The low promise in his words sends a shiver down Dean’s spine, which simultaneously hurts and makes his stupid, traitorous heart beat faster. The monitor beeps accordingly.

Cas smirks victoriously. “No hospital blowjobs for you, love.”

_ “Ca-as.” _

Cas has been a saint, really, because Dean is  _ not _ a good patient, and he knows it. He’s obnoxious and needy and whiney, and Cas just takes it all in stride, open affection on his face. It’s amazing, because Dean knows for a fact he’s been extra annoying this go-round.

It’s the worst he’s ever been injured, and his ribs are  _ the _ worst. It feels like they clang together with every move he makes, and there’s just no good way to bind them. Especially since no one wants to put any pressure on his lungs whatsoever as they heal. His leg aches, yeah, but at least it’s in a cast, and the burns on his neck are almost healed. It’s really just his fucking ribs. 

The door opens to admit Gabriel (who’s short and obnoxious), Sam (who’s tall and obnoxious), and Jess (who’s perfect).

* * *

The hospital stay has been a revelation.

Sam and Cas get along  _ great. _ Dean had a feeling they would. They’re both kind of quiet, kind of nerds, and kind of Dean’s favorite people. When Dean woke up, he had a moment of worry that Cas would be pissed that he didn’t know about Dean’s little brother. The alpha must have seen the panic on Dean’s face when Sam came in unannounced, because Cas simply leaned over to nuzzle at the omega’s temple and murmur, “We’ll talk later, love.”

(Cas has always been physically affectionate, but since Dean was hurt he’s been even moreso. It’s got a little to do with Dean’s healing. Studies have shown that bonded couples heal faster, more completely, if their bond-mates are there, touching them, scenting them. Dean has made  _ remarkable _ progress.

He thinks that it probably has more to do with Cas reassuring himself that Dean is alive and recovering, though. Not that Dean’s  _ complaining.) _

So Sam and Cas get along great, which makes something in Dean go all gooey and warm and omega-y.

* * *

Gabriel grins. “How we holdin’ up, lovebirds?”

* * *

Dean doesn’t know how he feels about Gabriel. The short alpha is kind of an asshole, definitely mostly a child, and he always has candy.  _ How? _

When he walks into a room, though, Dean can see other medical professionals straighten up in respect. He’s clearly very, very good at what he does, and because Cas is his brother (which,  _ what? _ Dean knows he doesn’t have a leg to stand on -heh- when it comes to hiding family from his boyfriend, but  _ rude), _ he has turned all of that considerable talent onto Dean.

He feels kind of like a prick for letting Dr. Novak focus on him, but Dean also  _ really _ wants to get out of this hospital.

* * *

Dean sighs. “Like shit.”

Gabe shrugs and grabs Dean’s chart. “Them’s the breaks when you try to be a hero.”

“Not try,” Cas protests softly.

“Yeah, Dean’s definitely a hero,” Jess says warmly, coming to half sit on Dean’s bed to let her warm scent mingle with his. It doesn’t promote healing like Cas’ does, but it’s comforting to have another omega nearby, especially in this room full of alphas. She picks up his other hand, the one not always being held by Cas, and threads her fingers through his. “Although,” she continues thoughtfully, “you didn’t have to run into a burning building to get me to come out here, stud.”

Dean grins. “Well, nothing else has worked.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gabe says easily. “Enough about the lovely lady wanting to take a step down the Winchester ladder. Let’s talk about getting you the fuck outta here, Dean.”

_ “Yes.” _

Dean’s been here for three weeks because of his stupid fucking lungs. The rest of him is ready to go home, but Gabriel (and everyone else) has been worried about the damage from smoke inhalation.

(Since Cas works for himself, it makes sense that he can be here. He just brings his laptop in and works while Dean’s asleep, which is often.

Sam and Jess are flying home today. They’ve squeezed as much as they can out of the “my brother is an hero who literally ran into a burning building to save pups and almost died” thing, and are being called back. They’ve both apologized profusely, but Dean’s relieved that they’ll be getting back to their lives, and he can stop being coddled.

Bobby flew out, too. He went home shortly after Dean woke up because he has to run the salvage yard, and because Bobby’s not an “all night vigil” kind of guy. He came to make sure Dean will live, to reassure that Dean that John will not find out or show up, and to meet Cas. Which went well, from what Dean’s been told.)

“Here’s the dealio, Deanio,” Gabe says in a booming voice. “You  _ are _ cleared to be discharged.You are  _ not _ cleared to work. You are  _ not _ cleared for physical exertion of any kind. You are  _ not _ cleared to come off of the oxygen, so you’re taking a few tanks with you. And finally, you are  _ not _ cleared to go home alone.”

Dean scowls, but nods.

“He’ll be coming home with me,” Cas says evenly. They already discussed this. As much as Dean hates it, his apartment is on the third floor, and Cas’ house is a ranch style. It grates, but since he doesn’t want his lungs to fall out, Dean agreed.

Gabe grins. “Good! Let’s get you crazy kids on the road, then!”

* * *

Once they’re settled on Cas’ couch, even though Dean is truly exhausted, he can’t take it anymore. “Is this later?”

Cas, the fucking psychic, knows what Dean is talking about immediately. “I suppose it can be, if you’re not too tired.”

“I’m all right.” At Cas’ disbelieving glance, “As long as we keep it short, I guess.”

“Would you like me to go first?”

Dean knows that he’ll have to fight to open up to Cas, even though he trusts the alpha, and even though he doesn’t plan on telling him everything (some secrets Dean plans to take to the grave). So maybe it would be best if he went first, but he’s too curious, and it might take time to get his courage up, anyway. So he just nods.

Cas nods, too. He’s sitting next to Dean on the couch, and he looks at the wall, resting his elbows on his knees, letting his hands dangle down.

“I have four older brothers. Michael, Lucifer, Gabriel, Raphael, and I am the youngest. Before I was old enough to understand what was happening, Gabriel realized the error of our family’s ways, and ran away in the night. None of us knew that, of course, he just… Disappeared. When I left the force, I was… Adrift. Gabriel found me shortly after I cut ties. It’s why I’m in Kansas, actually. He’s helped immensely with my wish to change my ways, to pull me out of that mindset.” Cas shrugs. “I don’t tend to talk about my family often, so I don’t talk about Gabriel, either.”

“Wow. All right.” Dean sighs. “So we’re gonna talk about this once, and that’s it, okay?” Cas nods. “Okay. My mom died when I was four in a housefire. Yes, that’s the reason I became a firefighter. After that, Dad went a little crazy.” Dean clenches his fist. “It got bad after I presented. Bad enough that I don’t talk about it.  _ Ever. _ Anyway, as soon as Sam was of age, we beat feet to California, so he could go to Stanford. Once he got settled there, I came back, because Lawrence is home. Dad was already gone, and he’s fuck knows where now, and I’m good with that. I don’t ever want to see him again.”

It must be because he’s sore and tired, but Dean’s got tears in his eyes by the end of his little speech. When Cas turns to gently pull Dean until he’s lying against the alpha’s chest (being as careful as he can be with his broken ribs), Dean buries his face into Cas’ shirt, sniffling and trying to get himself together.

(The thing is, Cas has to know  _ something. _ Even if he knows very little about Dean’s childhood, he knows Dean’s body like the back of his hand. He’s seen the scars on Dean’s back. He wouldn’t be surprised if Gabe told Cas about the x-rays, either, the long healed breaks and fractures. So, yeah, Cas knows, but this is the closest that Dean’s ever come to saying the words out loud to someone, and it’s a lot harder than he thought it would be.)

“Shh, love,” he murmurs into Dean’s hair, gathering him close. “Shh, no one will ever hurt you again. I’m right here.”

Dean loses track of time while he cries on Cas. He doesn’t know why people say talking about shit like this makes them feel lighter. He just feels dirty and broken.

What actually  _ is _ helping is Cas. His calming alpha scent, drenched in protectiveness, comfort, and affection (and maybe actual love, but who’s counting?). Dean burrows into Cas’ arms, and even though every part of him aches, and his perception is starting to go fuzzy from the exhaustion and the pain pill he took when they got home  _ (home), _ he can’t quite remember the last time he felt this safe.

“Were the twins okay?” He can’t believe he hasn’t thought about the pups yet. It’s just that his childhood got him thinking about parenting, and sue him if parenting makes him think about Cas, and pups with blue eyes.

“They’re doing fine. They’re back with their mother.”

Dean frowns and looks up. “How in the fuck do you know that?”

Cas shrugs. “I looked into it when I was… While your recovery was touch and go. I wanted to make sure that the children you were hurt for would be well taken care of.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So I looked into it. Classic omega discrimination.” (And damn if the condescension and disgust in Cas’ tone doesn’t  _ do _ things to Dean.) “Single mother, fallen on hard times. The father, a horrible excuse for a human, much less an alpha, waited until she was vulnerable to strike against her with a custody lawsuit. The pups went into foster care while they fought it out. The mother was trying to do it on her own. She could only find a minimum wage job, she couldn’t afford her own lawyer.”

Despite how suspicious he is, Dean’s kind of enthralled. “What happened?”

Cas smiles coldly. “I did some work for a lawyer, Josie Sands, a long time ago. She’s unaffectionately nicknamed ‘Abaddon’ in the courtroom. She’s an alpha, but she’s wildly sympathetic to single omegas with pups. Josie.... Josie does not  _ lose _ custody cases. I offered to pay the fee on behalf of the mother, Josie is in quite high demand and is rather pricey, but she refused. Her exact words, I believe, were, ‘I eat cases like this for breakfast, Cassie. It’s a warm-up lap, and I do not get paid for warm-up laps. Now, give me this woman’s phone number.’”

Dean is silent for a moment before, again, his curiosity gets the better of him. “Cas?”

“Hmm?”

“How the hell were you gonna pay her lawyer fees?” Cas is an  _ accountant, _ for fuck’s sake.

Cas blinks, then meets Dean’s eyes sheepishly. “Ah… Um… Well, from my… Trust fund?”

Nonplussed, “Trust fund?”

“My parents are… Rather wealthy. Each of the Novak children has a hefty trust fund that becomes theirs when they turn twenty-one. I’ve mostly left mine alone, because I want very little to do with it, but I occasionally use it to… Help.”

Dean turns a critical eye on all of the equipment they brought home from the hospital. The physical therapy crap, the crutches, the wheelchair (ridiculous, he is  _ never _ getting in that damn thing), the premium-super-special-is-probably-a-robot oxygen tank thingy.  _ Hmm. _

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” Cas responds meekly.

“When Gabe told me that this stuff was part of a subsidy program from the hospital, he was lying, wasn’t he?”

“… Yes.”

“You bought it, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” To his credit, Cas doesn’t try to defend himself, just stays silent so Dean can process.

His first instinct is to be livid, because he does  _ not _ take well to being coddled, or shielded, or having decisions taken away from him, especially to soothe an alpha’s ego. It’s always pissed him right the fuck off. That’s what Cas did, is take a decision away from Dean that should have been his.

But…

But Cas wasn't doing it to soothe his own ego. This wasn’t a, “I couldn’t protect my omega” thing. It was a, “I want Dean to have the best care and I have the resources to ensure that that happens” thing, Dean just  _ knows _ it. Cas barely has an ego, anyway, and he’s never been controlling in the least. He… Just… Wanted to help.

He also understands why Cas didn’t tell him about the money. Cas is ashamed of his family, of the way he lived his life up until recently. Why would he use the money that came from that? It is precisely Cas to keep ill-gotten gains to help other people. Fucking Robin Hood motherfucker.

So Dean looks up and squints at Cas. “So, you’ve been holding out on me?”

Cas frowns. “Excuse me?”

“Dates, man. You’ve been holding out on me, taking me to the Roadhouse and shit.”

Cas smiles. “If you’d like to go to more upscale establishments, I’d be happy to take you.”

Dean perks up. “Can I be your kept man?”

Those incredible blue eyes, sparkling with humor, roll in Cas’ head. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?!”

“Dean, you would be miserable.”

“I think that’s for me to decide.”

“You would be climbing the walls. You would drive me insane.”

“You can’t know that for sure. Maybe I’m a nester.”

A cocked eyebrow that turns Dean’s insides to jelly, just a little. “Hmm, maybe you are. Nevertheless, you are not going to be my kept man, you would be a terrible kept man.”

“What?! I would be great!”

And just like that, they’re bantering and laughing and Cas is holding Dean _ just _ right so he’s not in pain (and thinks Dean doesn’t notice), and another layer of Castiel Novak has been revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback makes me twitterpated.  
> Whaaaat Cas has a bunch of money and is just a good person? Jesus, I'm tropey.  
> Sorry, Dean.


	5. An Unlayering of Dean Winchester...

The final unlayering of Castiel Novak happens in the wake of an unlayering of Dean Winchester.

* * *

“Cas! Dinner’s ready!”

“I’ll just be a few minutes, love,” Cas’ gravelly voice answers.

Dean glares at the open doorway between the kitchen and the hall that connects the bedrooms and office. “Better not be late,” he mutters, utterly without heat.

* * *

It’s been three months since Dean was able to leave the hospital, and he’s climbing the walls. He hasn’t been so stationary (read: so  _ bored) _ for years, and it’s driving him crazy. He’s read every book that Cas owns, some of them twice, despite the mockery from Sam about “finally learning to read.” He’s watched the entirety of  _ Star Trek _ (which he forced Cas to watch with him) and  _ Star Wars _ (which he also made Cas watch with him). He’s snooped around all of Cas’ things, with permission  _ (“Dean, I have nothing to hide from you.” “Cas, dude, it’s not covert if you know about it.” “My apologies?”). _ He’s been cleaning Cas’ house (the desperation of boredom drives him to do crazy things) top to bottom, much to the alpha’s amusement. He’s also been cooking, which he enjoys, fulfilling some deep omega drive to keep his alpha fed and happy. Annoying, but true.

As much as he kind of liked it for the first few weeks, though, being pampered and watched over, it’s starting to chafe. He loves Cas, he really does (three months alone will let a person admit stuff like that), and he likes being here, but he wants to go back to work. He’s going to waste away doing nothing here.

* * *

Cas comes in a few minutes later and wraps his arms around Dean’s waist while he stirs the sauce. Cas hooks a chin over his shoulder and inhales deeply. Dean’s not sure if Cas is scenting him or the sauce.

“Smells good,” Cas hums, pressing his lips to Dean’s neck.

“Goddamn right it does,” Dean grumbles, but he does lean back into Cas a little, reveling in the touch.

* * *

Neither of them have mentioned that Dean could have moved out a month ago.

Dean’s extremely aware of it, and he knows that Cas is, too, but they’re carefully avoiding the topic.

It’s just that… Dean  _ likes _ it here. He likes the big, open spaces. He likes fucking around with Claire, or reading on the back deck, or cooking in the spacious kitchen. He likes watching Cas tend bees, or work in his office, or sleep in when Dean wakes up before he does. He just  _ likes _ it here.

The whole house has started to smell heavily of happy omega and happy alpha. It’s the kind of scent that a person could get drunk off of, and Dean is in no hurry to leave it.

If Cas doesn’t mention it, he’s not going to mention it.

* * *

As they’re piling noodles and sauce onto plates, the doorbell rings several times.

Dean frowns and looks at Cas, who seems to be equally confused. “Did you invite someone to dinner?” the alpha asks.

Dean shakes his head. “I was about to ask you the same.”

Wariness filters through the contentedness that was ruling Cas’ scent as he sets his plate down on the counter. He moves without another word toward the front door.

It’s… Unusual for them to receive guests unannounced, for many reasons. The first is that Cas kind of lives out in the middle of nowhere, so there are no neighbors, or foot traffic of any kind.

The second, and Dean’s favorite, reason is that Henrikson swears he’s never going to recover from coming over and walking in unexpectedly to the sight of Dean bent over the back of the couch for celebratory, “you can walk without crutches now” sex. Victor maintains, “It’s undignified, man.” Dean maintains, “Who walks in unannounced anymore?”

Regardless, unexpected visitors are a rarity.

Dean sets his own plate down and follows Cas, frowning.

Something is making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and just as Cas reaches for the door, he wants to stop him. Dean wants to get down on his knees and beg his alpha not to open it, to leave whoever it is out there and to stay in here with him, in the warmth, where things are bordering on perfect now, because they won’t be for long.

That’s ridiculous, though, and Dean is a grown goddamn man. So he just stands behind Cas and crosses his arms as he opens the door.

When sees the person who was knocking, Dean wishes he had.

“Dad?” he breathes out, shaky. “What… What are you doing here?”

John Winchester looks  _ bad. _ His skin is sallow and somehow loose, like he’s lost weight. Which he has, although Dean doesn’t know when. It’s been at least ten years since he fled in the night with his little brother to Bobby’s place, terrified that his father was going to kill him someday for the crime of being an omega. If that happened, who would take care of Sam?

John’s eyes are sunken in and bloodshot, and he smells  _ heavily _ of booze. Heavily enough that the smell of alpha is hard to discern, although the way that John’s alpha smells has always turned Dean’s stomach a little bit. He’s leaning precariously against the doorjamb, glaring at the two of them.

“The hell way is that to talk to yer father?” John slurs as he pushes himself up and stumbles past them.

Cas backs up and lets him, eyebrows up at his hairline, a frown starting to form on his face. Dean lets him because he can’t  _ not _ let him, and the thought of protesting out loud has his stomach clenching in nerves.

_ (Dean learned at six years old that talking back to his father meant getting smacked around. Asking questions of his father, questions like, “What’s for dinner?” Or “What’s Sammy gonna eat?” Or “Where’s mama?” These questions are met not with answers, but with the back of a hard hand coming at his face.) _

Cas is casting worried looks at Dean as he follows John into the living room. Cas’ confident way of moving soothes something in Dean, enough that he can stand tall and look his dad in the eye now.

_ (When Dean presented at fifteen, during his first heat, he learned that he was no longer allowed to look his father in the eye. Not if he wanted to remain unscathed, anyway. After his heat, when he dared to try it, determined to not let his subgender define his relationship with his father, John Winchester beat him so mercilessly he was in a hospital for a week and a half. A week and a half he spent trying to explain in drugged up, half-formed sentences that he had fallen on some farm equipment. “No, ma’am, I can see how maybe they look like cuts from a belt, but those are from that old combine. The craziest luck, don’tcha think?”) _

“Dad,” Dean tries again. “What are you doing here?”

“Shut up, boy,” John sneers, still looking around. “Don’t speak to your betters.”

Before Dean can react to the chasm that opens up in his chest at his father’s words, a deep warning growl rumbles its way from Cas’ chest standing next to him.

_ That _ gets John’s attention. His eyes finally swing to Cas, seeming to evaluate the other alpha. Seeming to find him wanting.

“You will address Dean with respect in this home, Mr. Winchester,” Cas says easily, like he’s not growling between each word.

_ “Ugh,” _ John snarls, disgusted. “One of them ‘New Age’ alphas? All equal rights for omega bitches? Barely even an alpha. Just some pussy with a knot on his dick.”

Dean’s own lips lift in a growl, but Cas is calm as can be, so he tries to calm himself. “I am, indeed, one of those ‘New Age alphas,’”  _ (air quotes again, Jesus Christ) _ “but as you are in my home, and I  _ am _ still an alpha, I will ask you to respect my wishes on the matter.”

“’Respect my wishes on the matter,’ Jesus, you even  _ talk _ like a pansy.”

Dean is drowning in humiliation and fear and regret. He didn’t want Cas to see this. Hell, he’s never even  _ talked _ to Cas about this. Cas knows, of course, about the scars and the breaks and the  _ abuse, _ but there’s a vast difference between kissing the scars on Dean’s back reverently and confronting Dean’s drunk father in his own living room. Dean realizes that his panic comes not just from John’s presence here, but from the worry that this will be the last straw for Cas.

Fear is making his heart pound and his hands shake, but he continues to face his father head on.  _ “What _ are you  _ doing here?” _ he grits out, trying to sound strong.

Cas must scent the absolute terror coursing through Dean because he shifts closer and puts a hand on the small of his back. It’s a simple touch, but it’s grounding, and the reassurance that Cas is exuding calms Dean down a little bit. Not a lot, because he still thinks this might be the end for him and the alpha he’s in love with, but a little.

“Heard ‘bout your dumbass almost dyin’ in a burnin’ house,” John slurs, meanness lighting up his eyes. “Thought I’d come see if you’d come to your senses about this damn job, see if you’re ready to go ahead and find yourself a mate who can put up with you long enough to take care of you, since you can’t do it your goddamn self.”

Dean’s thrown back into memories, barely coherent enough to realize that Cas’ hand has tightened dangerously on his back.

_ (“You’re never gonna be a man, Dean. Worse than a woman, now. Not smart enough to lock yourself down during heats, either. Gonna go get yourself mated to some knothead who’ll keep you barefoot and pregnant, which is prob’ly more than you deserve, anyway.”) _

The only thing that could bring him out of his spiraling panic is probably Cas’ voice, tight with controlled anger, and the protective, possessive scent starting to permeate the room.

“Mr. Winchester, I mean this with as little respect as humanly possible,” Cas says coldly, “but I’d like you to leave.”

Cas is different right now. This isn’t Dean’s Cas, the warm, cuddly alpha who likes bees and Claire and Dean. This isn’t the man who gets flustered when he brings Dean lunch at the station, or the man who talks to Claire like she’s a person who understands English. This Cas is… Different. Dean can see this Cas rubbing elbows with the upper upper class that he came from. This Cas’ spine is straight, his eyes haughty and distant. Though he stands shorter than both Dean and John Winchester, he manages to make it seem like he’s looking down his nose at Dean’s father.

It’s intimidating. And really, really hot.

John, however, is still rolling his eyes. “And leave my son with some pussy alpha who couldn’t keep him safe? What kind of father would I be?”

“John,” Cas says, still cold and commanding. “I’m willing to give you another chance to obey my request before I call the authorities.”

John snorts. “The  _ authorities? _ Jesus, son, you can’t even kick me out  _ yourself?” _ The disgust in John’s voice curdles Dean’s blood, makes him break out in a light sweat.

The thing is, Dean  _ wants _ to tell his Dad to go fuck himself. He wants to tell him that subgender shouldn’t have mattered, that he’s his  _ kid. _ He should have been  _ caring _ for him, not beating the shit out of him. He wants to tell him that he’s evil. He wants to tell him that the vertebrae he cracked when he held Dean down and whipped him with that goddamn belt still ache when it’s cold. He wants to tell him that he wouldn’t let Cas see his back for  _ weeks, _ and no one but Cas has gotten the privilege (he just had sex face-to-face with people, unwilling to give them that piece of him). He wants to scream at John about how he damn near ruined Dean’s life, and not to talk to Cas, because he might be the only good thing about anything  _ ever. _

When John’s eyes land on Dean again, though, Dean knows what’s coming, and all he can do is let the despair build up in his heart and curse the fact that he went into heat instead of popping a knot at sixteen.

“Dean, you’re coming with me,” John says, alpha voice still hard and booming. It clearly hasn’t deteriorated along with his body.

Dean starts to move towards his father without his consent, and he fights it, dear  _ God _ does he fight it, but he can’t. These instincts are old and inevitable. Dean is an omega, and omegas must obey alphas.

Dean is stopped, however, by Cas’ hand coming up to clamp down on the back of his neck, probably the only pressure point that can pull an omega out of instincts like that. Dean goes completely still, heart hammering, something like elation and hope and fear and sadness fighting inside him.

“That’s quite enough,” Cas growls, sending shivers down Dean’s spine. “You will leave now, or I will subdue you until the authorities arrive.”

John’s face twists in disdain. “You motherfucker, I-“

“You have a choice,” Cas interrupts, “and you have approximately ten seconds to choose before I do it for you.”

Everything that happens next, happens in the span of just a few seconds. It takes a few seconds after  _ that _ for Dean’s brain to process it all.

John charges forward, his insane alpha strength and speed untouched by time or alcohol. Dean has no idea what his dad intends to do, but as fast as John is, Cas is faster. John gets no further than a few steps forward before Cas is on him.

The scariest thing about the ensuing fight, which is going on too fast for Dean’s eyes to follow, is how  _ silent _ Cas is. John is snarling and snapping, but Cas is still calm and collected as he firmly wrestles the other alpha down until John is on his belly, both arms held behind him by Cas’ iron grip. Cas has a knee driven into John’s back, immobilizing him, and doesn’t appear to be struggling to keep him there at all.

“Dean, love,” Cas says casually, though his words are a bit breathier than usual, “would you mind contacting the police?”

Dean just stares for a beat. “Uh, yeah, yeah. I can do that.” He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket, still a little bit out of it.

As Dean waits, he sees Cas lean down to hiss into John’s ear. Maybe Cas is being a little louder than he thinks, maybe he wants Dean to hear. For whatever reason, every word is clear as a bell to the omega.

“You are reprehensible,” Cas says, anger finally coloring his tone. “Your son is an  _ incredible _ human being, and while I would normally pity anyone who didn’t have him in their life, I am exceedingly glad that he will no longer have  _ you _ in  _ his.” _

John snarls.  _ “Take _ the useless bitch. You’ll be begging me to take him back.”

Dean can’t see what Cas does, but whatever it is makes John honest to God  _ wail _ in agony. The scent of alpha is suffocating in here, but Dean is finely tuned to Cas, so his scent is stronger, not to mention infinitely more comforting.

“I believe I already mentioned addressing Dean with respect,” Cas growls, “and as for any further interaction between the two of us, I’m here to assure you that I will  _ always _ be here to make certain that you never lay another finger on him.”

Dean is busy drowning and basking in the scent of  _ protective _ and  _ possessive _ and  _ territorial _ that’s rolling off of Cas and waiting on hold with the non-emergency police line. So he can be forgiven if it takes a few minutes for him to recognize the slow burn in his belly.

When he _does_ realize what’s going on, he’s torn between irritation and elation. He’s pissed that he’s gonna have to miss even _more_ work (he’s scheduled to go back in, just for office work, in a few days). He’s also a little shocked and giddy because, well, this is some fairy tale bullshit right here. As he explains the situation to the dispatcher, he wonders what Cas will think.

It’s easy to slip away to get things ready once the cops arrive. Cas lives in a different precinct than Dean works, so none of the officers know who he is or what he does. Normally, the way they all automatically defer to Cas would piss Dean right the fuck off, but he just uses it to his advantage now.

It takes about an hour from the time Dean made the call to officers loading John into the backseat of a cruiser. During that time, he knows that he’s starting to put out “fuck me” and “protect me” hormones more than normal from the looks he’s getting from the officers. The resulting alpha aggression makes the big alpha officer slam John’s head on top of the car, which delights Dean.

It’s around this time that Dean realizes he should probably call Sam. He’s starting to sweat as he dials his brother’s number, and knows he’s going to have to make this fast.

Luckily, Sam answers on the second ring. “Dean? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all fine. I just wanted to let you know that Dad was kind enough to stop by.”

_ “What?!” _

(Sam knows. Sam was  _ there. _ Sam was locked out of the room when John beat Dean right into the hospital. Sam watched John hit his eldest son on a daily basis, watched his bones break and his nose bleed and his eyes swell. Sam knows how bad it is that John showed up.)

“It’s all right, I’m fine. Cas got him down, he’s in jail for trespassing and assault.”

“... Holy  _ shit.” _

Dean laughs, but he can hear how breathy and strained it’s starting to sound. “Yeah, you’re not kidding.”

There’s shuffling on the other side of the line. “I’m coming to you.”

Dean frowns. “Christ’s sake, Sam, no, you’re not. I’m fine, I just wanted to keep you in the loop.”

“Dean, I know you feel like you’ve got to keep up this macho persona, but you need someone who knows what happened, and-”

“Cas is here,” Dean protests.

“Does Cas know?”

“I think he has a pretty good idea, yeah. Seeing as how Dad was  _ in the guy’s house.” _

“I still think I should be there-”

When Dean feels the first trickle of slick run from his ass and down his thigh, he knows he’s out of time. “No, Sam, you really shouldn’t, because Cas gettin’ all protective and shit made my suppressants fail.”

_ “What?” _

“I’m going into heat,” Dean says cheerfully, enjoying himself despite the growing discomfort. “So, unless you want to spend a real awkward watching Cas-”

A huge, explosive growl behind him has Dean whirling to see Cas in the doorway. His chest is heaving, and his upper lip is twitching up into a snarl as he scents the air. Cas’ eyes are even ringed with alpha red.  _ “Dean.” _

Dean gasps, and slick gushes out of him at the sound of Cas’ voice. The way that ring of red grows, almost eclipsing the blue in Cas’ eyes, tells Dean that Cas can smell his arousal.

“I’ve gotta go, Sammy,” Dean says faintly, not moving an inch.

“What? Dean, wait, we need to talk-”

“My heat triggered Cas’ rut,” Dean says sharply before he hangs the phone up and sets it down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback makes me twitterpated.  
> Me: Smut next chapter!  
> Also me: *is absolutely a liar*  
> Don't worry, my lovelies. I'm posting the last 3 chapters today.


	6. ... And the Fallout Thereafter

_ “Dean,” _ Cas snarls again. “You have to  _ go.” _

This time, though, Dean knows what he wants, and he has the upper hand. “I consent,” he says, clearly and succinctly. “I want this with you.”

Cas’ eyes widen, then narrow. “Dean, you don’t know what you’re saying. You can’t-”

_ “Cas,” _ because, honestly, Dean’s getting a little fucking desperate here. “I trust you,” he says softly, hoping his sincerity is showing on his face (along with his growing need to get fucked). “You wouldn’t hurt me, alpha.”

Cas’ eyebrows go up. “No, no, of  _ course _ not. But, Dean, you might not-”

“I  _ consent,” _ Dean says again. “I want this, alpha, I want  _ you. _ I trust you to stop if I say ‘stop.’”

Cas just looks at him for what feels like, to Dean’s increasingly heat-addled brain, fucking  _ forever. _ The alpha red has covered almost his entire iris. From the haze in his vision, Dean knows that his own eyes are shining omega gold at his alpha.

“Please, Cas,” Dean whispers. “I want this. I want  _ you, _ so fuckin’ bad.”

Cas frowns. “What if… What if I bite you?”

They both know they’re not talking about love bites. Dean whimpers at the idea of Cas mating him, and the answering rumble from Cas’ chest tells him that the alpha is thinking the same.

“What if I want you to?” Dean rasps, trying valiantly to keep his thoughts from scattering.

Cas frowns. “Dean, this is-”

“I swear to God, Cas, if you say it’s the heat talking, I will  _ lose my mind.” _ Anger is helping him keep his thoughts in order.

“I wasn’t going to,” Cas grits out. “I just… Don’t want you to regret anything.”

Doubt suddenly hits Dean like a pile of bricks. What Cas just said is ridiculous, but what if it’s not what Cas  _ means?  _ What if Cas thinks  _ he _ might regret mating  _ Dean? _ Well, that makes sense to Dean. He’s not really a “good omega,” with his physical, dangerous job, and the fact that he’s over six feet tall. Dean also cusses like a sailor and he’s kind of messy and he’s-

“Dean,” Cas says gently (as gently as possible for an alpha in heat). When Dean meets his eyes, there’s more blue there than red again. “Make no mistake, I want to mate you. You must know how I feel about you. I just don’t want to make a decision like this in haste, especially considering what just happened in our living room.”

More than the message that Cas is trying to convey, his slip up and use of the word “our” warms Dean in places he didn’t know were still cold. He feels a rush of affection for the alpha in front of him.

Unfortunately, he also feels a stab of pressure and unbearable heat in his midsection, making him gasp and his eyes flare gold, if the dots at the edges of his sight are anything to go by. Cas can smell it on him, he must be able to, because the alpha red is back in full force, as is his snarl.

“Cas,” Dean gasps, “do you think we could maybe talk about this later?”

Cas nods, obviously scenting the air. “I think that would be best, yes.”

Thinking the discussion part of the evening is over, Dean takes a step to leave the kitchen. Since he’s still only got eyes for Castiel, he catches the way Cas’ whole body tenses up, the way his eyes zero in on Dean in a way they weren’t before. In a  _ predatory _ way.

Again, Dean isn’t much of an overthinker, so he doesn’t hesitate to obey his instincts when they tell him to  _ run. _

He dashes down the hall, barely hearing Cas’ surprised gasp and subsequent growl. Dean’s inner omega cheers and rolls over at the sound of Cas’ footsteps following his, elated that his alpha is giving chase, that his alpha is going to prove himself to Dean. As far as Dean himself is concerned, Cas has proved himself time and time again, but his omega instincts are demanding that Cas show himself to be strong and fast enough to catch them.

Dean manages to make it almost to the bedroom before Cas catches him by slamming him into the wall face-first and crowding him against it, one long, hot line along his body. Cas buries his nose in Dean’s neck, scenting him hard, his hands like iron on Dean’s hips.  _ “Mine,” _ Cas snarls, and Dean whimpers in response.

“Yours, alpha,” Dean says desperately, grinding back onto the  _ significant _ erection he can feel pressing into him. Cas growls and pins him again, so Dean stills, the omega in him thrilling at the show of strength.

“Bed,” Cas growls against his ear.  _ “Now, _ omega.”

Dean gasps and scrambles to obey. Cas  _ never _ calls him omega. It’s always “Dean,” or “love.” The only time Dean refers to Cas by his subgender is when they’re fucking, or when Cas is upset. The way Cas says “omega,” though, with possessiveness and love and warmth, makes more slick leak from Dean, making it hard to focus on getting to the bed.

He does make it, but he’s stopped from turning to look at Cas by the alpha’s hands on his hips again, holding him in place. Cas’ lips press to his ear. “Clothes,” he snarls, and as he nips at Dean’s neck, Dean woozily reflects on how his heat has managed to reduce his alpha to two-word sentences.

He doesn’t spend too long on it, just strips out of his t-shirt and struggles with his jeans until he can get them off, too. They’re soaked from ass to knee, so it takes him a moment. As soon as he’s bared, the smell of omega arousal absolutely saturates the room. It makes him whine, and it makes Cas rumble deep in his chest, clearly satisfied with himself.

Apparently, while he was undressing, Cas was, too, because as soon as Dean is naked, Cas is pressed against his back again. He’s putting off massive amounts of heat, making Dean shiver, and his big alpha cock is slotted against Dean’s ass, pressing against his hole. Dean whines again, and Cas’ arms come up around his waist, one hand splayed on his hip, the other pressed against his chest.

“Bed.”

Dean falls forward to catch himself on his hands, then crawls up until he’s on all fours. The arousal is making him dizzy, making it hard for him to think. His cock is painfully hard, already leaking precome, and the slick is coming from his ass in earnest.

The bed dips when Cas joins him, standing on his knees behind him. “Present,” his growly alpha demands in that goddamn diesel engine of a voice.

Dean Winchester has done a lot of depraved things in his life. He’s fucked omegas, betas, and alphas alike. He’s tied people up, he’s been tied up. He even has a little collection of silk panties he keeps in his underwear drawer (which drive Cas  _ crazy). _ He has not ever, however, presented in his  _ life. _ There’s a sort of humiliating surrender to the act, something he’s never been a hundred percent comfortable with giving to a partner.

Cas is different, though. Cas is  _ always _ different. Dean feels safe with Cas, knows that nothing he does in the bedroom will make Cas respect or value him any less.

So it is with no hesitation whatsoever that Dean drops to his elbows, presses his forehead to his arms, and cants his hips up, presenting his dripping hole to his alpha.

Castiel gives a pretty gratifying growl at the sight, making Dean moan and rock gently, desperate for his alpha’s hands on him. Cas finally grips his hips, making Dean whine out loud. Instead of the cock he needs so bad, though, he feels the rough, wet,  _ filthy _ texture of Cas’ tongue against his hole, and he cries out at the sensation.

Cas starts with broad licks form perineum to hole, his soft growls sending vibrations up Dean’s spine and making him shudder. He switches to little kitten licks around his hole, alternating with nips and bites. When he  _ finally _ breaches Dean’s ass, the omega is whining and pressing his face back into Cas, half out of his mind with want.

“Alpha,” he rasps, “alpha,  _ please-” _ He’s cut off by a scream when Cas seals his lips around his hole and  _ sucks, _ effectively taking Dean’s brain with the slick he’s pulling into his mouth.

_ “Cas!” _

Whe Cas finally pulls away, and Dean is nearly sobbing into his arms, mindlessly, restlessly moving. He tilts his hips at a more extreme angle, begging with his body for what he no longer has the wherewithal to beg for with his words.

“Omega,” Cas growls as he readjusts, and Dean can’t bring himself to look back at him.  _ “Mine.” _

“Yours, yes, please, alpha, please, need you, alpha, it  _ hurts-” _ Dean’s babbling because he’s so fucking hard, so fucking wet, and he’s telling the truth. The pain is starting to build up in him, making him desperate for Cas to fill him up and knot him. He  _ needs _ Cas to pump him full of come and seal it in, needs Cas to fuck him or bite him or  _ something. _

He finally,  _ finally _ feels Cas wrap around him, pressing his chest to Dean’s back, his lips to the omega’s ears. “Shh, omega, shh.” One of his hands is on Dean’s belly, rubbing soothing circles, the other on his hips, not holding him there, just holding him.

Dean vaguely realizes he’s sobbing, still moving mindlessly against his alpha’s cock, which is lined up against him, but not  _ in _ him.  _ “Please, _ alpha, please, fuck me, breed me-”

At those words, Cas snarls and snaps his hips forward,  _ almost _ getting Dean where he needs him.  _ Gotcha. _

“Breed me,” Dean begs again, “fuck me full of pups, alpha, wanna carry pups for you, wanna be yours, make me smell like you  _ all the time-” _

Cas enters him with one hard, smooth thrust, making Dean arch and scream into the bed. It’s hard and  _ huge _ and just this side of painful and  _ everything Dean wants. _ He howls as Cas starts to fuck him roughly, both hands gripping his hips now, bruising him. A small part of Dean’s mind is psyched to see the marks Cas leaves on him during this heat, but the rest of him is just purring with pleasure at his alpha  _ finally _ fucking him.

Cas wraps an iron arm around Dean’s chest and hauls him up onto his knees, so his back is pressed against Cas. He puts his hands on his alpha’s hips, trying to ground himself, trying not to lose everything to the way Cas is fucking him.

The other hand grips Dean on the chin  _ hard _ and tilts his head forward, until he meets his own eyes in the mirror that Cas keeps above his dresser, because when Cas isn’t in rut and fucking him silly, Dean’s alpha is a huge nerd.

“Watch,” Cas demands, and even if it wasn’t in alpha voice, Dean would be helpless to disobey.

Dean whines and does what he’s told, his eyes drawn first to Cas’ hand on his chest, keeping him firmly in place. He’s then drawn to his own cock, thick with arousal, the precome dripping down his balls and onto the bed. Cas’ other hand has let go of his face and is slowly moving it’s way down his heaving chest and belly, and the inevitability of it makes Dean whimper.

What catches his eye last is the point where he can see Cas’ huge alpha cock splitting him open, leaving him already feeling fucked out and loose. Cas’ knot is just starting to swell, which would make Dean’s eyes roll back in his head if his alpha hadn’t already told him to  _ watch. _

_ “Mine,” _ Cas growls against his cheek, and Dean nods frantically.

“Yours, yours, yours, alpha, yours-” he chants, keening.

Cas catches his eyes in the mirror, and Dean realizes that they’re shining red with affection and lust and possessiveness, and that his own eyes are doing the same in golden hues. That, coupled with the way Cas’ hand wraps tight around his cock and the way he growls,  _ “Come, now, omega,” _ in Dean’s ear sends Dean hurtling over the edge with a scream.

Pleasure explodes  _ everywhere. _ Dean’s vaguely aware of himself shooting come over Cas’ hand and his own chest as far up as his collarbone, vaguely aware that he’s still screaming, and of the smidge of pain in his throat from crying out. The  _ yes _ and  _ good _ and  _ pleasure _ coming from where they’re connected is making everything else fade into the background of his consciousness, though.

Everything except for Cas’ knot starting to swell. Cas is still fucking him hard, jarring him with each thrust, the sound of their skin slapping lewd and hot and filthy. His knot is catching with every thrust, and when he finally slams in for the last time and it swells even  _ more, _ another orgasm is ripped from Dean, making him tilt his head back on Cas’ shoulder and  _ howl. _

He can feel the hot splash of Cas’ come filling him up, and it makes Dean shudder and moan as he feels himself contract around Cas’ knot, ensuring he gets all of it out of the alpha. Cas is growling on each breath, nosing at the skin behind Dean’s ear, his hands running soothingly up and down his chest and sides. “My omega,” he growls against Dean’s hot, flushed skin. Dean’s completely unable to do anything but nod.

Cas’ grip tightens again.  _ “My _ omega,” he insists, still nosing at Dean’s neck, and Dean finally understands through his haze of heat and post-orgasm bliss.

He tilts his head to the side, baring his neck to his alpha. “Please,” he whispers, meeting Cas’ eyes in the mirror.  _ “Please, _ alpha.” This plea is one he can’t bring himself to say louder than that.

Cas is gentler than he has been since they were in the kitchen as he gently mouths at the place where Dean’s neck and shoulder meet. He doesn’t break eye contact with Dean as he simultaneously scentmarks the omega and follows his instincts that will tell him where the best place for a mating bite is.

When Cas’ teeth finally sink in, with enough force to break skin and to bruise everything around it, a third orgasm takes Dean by surprise. He convulses on Cas’ dick, eyes finally rolling up in his head, mouth open in a silent cry. Cas growls and tightens his arm around Dean’s chest, keeping him tucked up against the alpha, somehow both confining and soothing at the same time. It’s the last thing Dean remembers for several minutes.

When he comes to, he’s on his side, as cleaned up as Cas can get him with just the tissues from the bedside table, wrapped in a blanket and his alpha. Cas is leisurely lapping at Dean’s mating bite, smugness and satisfaction oozing through his scent, making Dean’s own scent turn happy and sated. Dean can’t help the dopey smile on his face.

He reaches up and laces his fingers through Cas’ on his hip. “My alpha,” he sighs, happier than he’ll be willing to admit out loud later, once his heat is over.

“My omega.”

Dean tilts his head up to nose at Cas’ temple. “Love you, alpha.”

He feels Cas still, and another possessive growl builds in his chest. He presses a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to the bruised, bloody bite on Dean’s neck. “Love, omega.”

Good enough for Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback makes me twitterpated.  
> This was my first attempt of at a/b/o smut, so tell me all of the thoughts that went through your head.


	7. Epilogue: Unlayered

Dean’s heat and Cas’ rut both last about another week. After that, they agree to take a long, hot shower in Cas’ incredible bathroom. They wash each other slowly, content to do nothing but touch, but of them too fucked out to do anything else.

After that, they treat their mating bites with disinfectant and bandages. Neither of them really like covering them up, but an infection would be worse, so they both deal with it.

(Not all alphas let their omegas mark them, but in this, as in everything, Cas is above the rest, and wears his mark with pride.)

They sleep and eat and hold one another for two days after that, before heat and rut leave are both up, and they go back into the world.

* * *

Dean never goes back to that third floor apartment. Instead, they move the rest of the stuff he wants to keep into Cas’ house and sell the rest. Dean never had any real attachment to the apartment, and in the last few weeks, Cas’ house has become home.

As a coming-home gift, Cas has a garage built for Baby. As a concession, Dean buys a seat cover for the back, so Claire can join them on long car rides on the weekends.

* * *

Dean goes back to work, but stays in the office. The whole station is still pretty twitchy about his lungs, as is Cas, so Dean sits at a desk with a minimum of grumbling. He often brings the dog to work with him. She curls around his feet and snoozes while he files paperwork and fights with the budget.

Cas continues to be an accountant, and continues to take whatever his clients can pay for recompense. It continues to bring many a strange object into their home (one ancient relic, several casseroles, and the offer of one cat that Cas has to refuse because Dean is allergic).

* * *

The morning that Dean wakes up to Cas frantically nosing his neck, hands moving restlessly over his hips and belly, murmuring, “Dean, Dean,  _ Dean,” _ he grins and cuddles back into his alpha.

Dean’s known for two days that he’s pregnant. He’s been keeping the morning sickness a secret from Cas, just waiting for his mate to smell it on him.

Cas calls into work, then makes love to him gently, face to face so he can press loving kisses all over Dean’s neck and chin, his cheeks and nose. Dean comes almost softly, but no less powerfully than he has every time. Cas comes with tears in his eyes.

_ “Dean,” _ he whispers, his voice still awed and reverent.

Dean smiles and brings Cas close to press a reassuring kiss to his lush lips. “Come here, alpha.”

* * *

They are both unlayered now, laid bare before one another. There are no more secrets, no more unknowns. Dean doesn’t know if this is happily ever after, but it’s damn close if it’s not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback makes me twitterpated!  
> Tell me what you thought. Are you disappointed? Are you delighted? Disgusted? Tell me everything.


End file.
